Part 12 (1/2)
CHAPTER X.
THE BUILDER OF THE STRANGE CABIN.
”What is it, Bandy-legs?” shouted Steve, who, in spite of his constant quarreling with the other, felt a great amount of affection for him.
He had pounced down upon the ax, which happened to be lying close by, and this he flourished around his head as he started to meet the figure that was scrambling up the little bank above the beach.
”Whoo, somethin' jumped at me!” replied the startled boy, panting for breath; for he had fallen at least twice, in his haste to rejoin his campmates near the blazing fire.
Max took hold of him as he came up, and started to ask questions.
Perhaps he already began to suspect that Bandy-legs was allowing his fears to run away with his judgment. There was such a thing as being frightened at one's own shadow.
”Are you sure you saw something, Bandy-legs?” he asked.
”Course I am,” came the reply.
”And it wasn't your shadow this time?” Max continued.
Now, had Steve put It in exactly the same way, the boy would have shown immediate indignation; but he seemed to understand that Max meant every word, and was not simply trying to tease him. So he replied in like good faith.
”It sure wasn't, Max. Why, just when I was goin' to bend down over my canoe, to see how things looked inside, it gave a nasty little spit straight in my face, and went whirling over the side. And, Max, it had a tail as big as a broom, honest it did.”
”Oh, that means it must have been a 'c.o.o.n,” remarked Max, beginning to laugh.
”But what would a measly old racc.o.o.n want in my canoe?” demanded Bandy-legs. ”If he just had to come snoopin' around, why couldn't the critter pick out a boat belongin' to somebody else? Seems like everything has a spite against just me.”
”Well, of course, I can't tell you that,” remarked Max. ”If you want to know you'll have to ask the 'c.o.o.n. Perhaps you may have dropped a small piece of food in your boat; and as he came prowling around, not very much afraid of us here, he got track of the same, and was hunting for it when you had to disturb him.”
”I don't wonder he sniffed in your face when you poked your head in there,” declared Steve. ”n.o.body likes to be bothered when they're eating. Just try taking a bone away from a hungry dog or cat, once, and see. He thought you a busybody, that's what, Bandy-legs. But he's gone now, if so be you want to investigate, and find out whether the 'c.o.o.n chawed another hole in your canoe.”
But Bandy-legs only threw himself down by the fire.
His air was that of one who was determined not to be easily lured away from so comfortable a place until it was time to go to bed. They could see that Bandy-legs was really becoming quite worked up over the queer way a fickle fortune seemed to be showering little adventures on his shoulders, while the rest went scot free.
”Ain't we goin' to stand guard to-night, fellers?” he asked later on; showing how the subject stuck in his mind.
”Guard over what?” asked Steve.
”Why, that critter is bent on stealing every bit of our grub, and we ought to do everything we can to break up his game,” Bandy-legs affirmed, in a firm way that was rather new to him.
”As how?” further questioned Steve; while the others listened as if interested.
”Well, s'pose Max here laid out a plan that would give every feller two hours on the watch,” pursued Bandy-legs, proudly, as though he had conjured up this beautiful little scheme all by himself, while sitting there staring into the fire. ”If I had that shotgun in my hands, I'd just like to see anybody, or anything, sneak in on us, and steal as much as an egg.”
”I guess you would be a pretty dangerous customer, with a loaded gun in your hands, the way you feel right now,” remarked Max, seriously. ”Come, you mustn't think so much about it, Bandy-legs. Leave it to us, and we'll try and fix it all right.”
”But I've got an idea of a trap in my mind I'd like to try out,”
protested the other, eagerly.